Dramatic Packing
by CourtneyEllen
Summary: Draco has a flair for the dramatics


For QLFC, Seeker, Les Miserables: A character leaves their past behind and seeks to be a better person

Word Count: 1,780

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Packing away his life into a trunk resonated with the same dramatic flair that others had come to expect from Draco Malfoy over the course of his lifetime.

"Is this really necessary, love?" Astoria stood behind her husband watching him place his belongings into a trunk equipped with an Extension Charm as if the items were set to blow up in the next ten seconds. Her sister had not been kidding when she had mentioned that Draco had a flair for the dramatics, and while Astoria had grown accustomed to it in the last three years of marriage, this outburst took the cake.

"Of course! I cannot have Scorpius accidentally getting his hands on any of these objects!" Draco raved, tucking another one of his school robes into the trunk. Astoria glanced at Scorpius, the baby dead asleep against her shoulder. He was only a month old and would not be getting into things for months to come. And it was not as if there were no spells to baby proof items or rooms in which they could then store Draco's belongings where Scorpius could not get to them.

But like she had said, Draco liked to act dramatically whenever the situation allowed.

"Love, he can barely keep his eyes open!"

"I understand, but in the blink of an eye, he will be running around, and I don't want him near any of this stuff," Draco huffed, using his wand to lift a family heirloom into the trunk. Astoria could not say for certain, but she believed that the heirloom had been cursed by Draco's aunt.

"But you don't even know if you will get the belongings back." It was not as if they could not afford the best of the best, but Draco—in the peak of his theatrics—

decided to buy a dodgy trunk from some shady shop in Germany—where Draco's mother had decided to live after the war—on their last vacation before Scorpius was born.

Draco had not inspected the trunk before he had put the first items, Lucius' Death Eater robes and mask, in. However, they had both witnessed the robes go in and disappear in the trunk without another trace. It did not seem to cause Draco any worry, however, as whatever he put into the trunk, he had yet to reach back in for. He was certain he did not want these items in his possession anymore; so much so that he did not even care if they were destroyed the second they entered the trunk.

"It's for the best, Tori." Draco sighed, his shoulder hunching in defeat as he hung over the edge of the trunk. Astoria had not seen Draco look this defeated since the war and the trials his family had had to endure. Reaching down with one hand, she rubbed his neck reassuringly. While their marriage might have been arranged, she had come to care for the older man and knew of the struggles that were balanced on his shoulders.

"He does not need to know the path his father and grandfather chose. I will not expose him to that. He can learn of it at Hogwarts where I am sure Potter and Longbottom will sing of my failures." Astoria resisted the urge to roll her eyes at Draco's words — he was always so dramatic.

"You know bloody well that Harry and Neville would never do anything of the sort." Daphne, Astoria's sister, worked at Hogwarts with both of the Gryffindors, and she had nothing but good things to say about them. They both treated the students fairly, unlike the professors of their time that had had house biases. "And Scorpius would look at you no differently if you were still actively working for the dark side. You are his father, Draco; he will love you no matter what." Astoria's voice was firm as she shifted Scorpius into Draco's arms.

The blond man was instantly on his feet, holding his newborn son away from the trunk and its dangerous contents. Astoria stared at him in awe for the quick movement, forgetting that Draco had been a Seeker and had only ever been beaten by Harry. But that was not all that caused her wonder; she felt her heart swell at the natural protectiveness he had over their son.

The two had spent many sleepless nights together wondering if they would be good parents, Draco more so than Astoria. Draco had not even wanted to hold Scorpius when the Mediwitch had held the baby out to him. And now here he was, correctly holding the baby in his arms in such a manner that nothing could harm Scorpius. Not even the Dark Lord should he, Merlin forbid, rise from the dust to seek revenge on Draco.

"He should be in his crib," Draco said, his voice soft, those grey eyes focused on the sleeping bundle of joy in his arms, "not around all this darkness." Astoria bit her lip at his phrasing, knowing that he was not just talking about the cursed items spread out on the floor. She would have to have a long discussion with him later about his worth, it seemed.

"I will leave you to your trunk then, love. Please be careful." Astoria stepped forward to take Scorpius from Draco and place a delicate kiss to her husband's cheek. She usually went for his forehead, but at his full height, there was no chance Astoria could reach that stretch of skin without jumping, which would not be smart with the bundle in her arms.

Draco sighed sharply through his nose as he watched his wife and son leave the room, before dropping back down to his knees to continue packing away the various objects. The remaining items were things that belonged to him, all of the dark objects that had belonged to his parents already having been packed into the trunk. Of the remaining items, all that was left were:

His Death Eater robes. Something of his past so disgusting that it caused him to tremble just by touching the silk. His mother had gotten them specially made for him in France.

"'Nothing but the best for my son,'" Draco repeated what she had said all those years ago, dropping the robes into the trunk with his mask, he felt no relief wash over him as they disappeared.

Next came the notebook in which he had kept a record of the Vanishing Cabinet's progress. His fingers twitched for his wand, wanting to just set the blasted book on fire and forget that he had ever conspired with the Dark Lord. He had done it for his family, for his mother, for his own life, but it still was the worst decision he had ever made. If Draco were not so selfish, he would go back in time and refuse the Dark Lord and take his punishment right then and there. Perhaps then the war could have been avoided for a few more years?

A Time-Turner was dropped in next. Draco had never used this object; his father had given it to him long ago with some hissed words about making the past right again. The 'gift' had been given after Dumbledore's death, and Draco had been more terrified to have seen his professor fall hundreds of feet than worrying about the past. There was no fixing his mistakes.

The Malfoy ring hit the bottom of the trunk with a dull 'thunk!' and Draco exhaled sharply once more. It was not proper for a Pureblood Lord to not wear his family sigil, but Draco was as much of a Lord as the Weasleys now. The trials had stripped his family of everything to 'pay for the damages of war' or something along those lines, leaving them with a measly amount of Galleons and two estates to their name, the Malfoy Manor in England and another located in Germany. Besides, the ring thrummed with enough dark magic that it made Draco sick to wear it. He did not want it touching his son.

And lastly, his wand was picked up from the floor. This was the wand that had caused so much damage, that had taken so many lives. That had killed Voldemort once and for all. Draco would never know how his wand had responded to Harry so well, but he was thankful that the hawthorn wand had not rejected the Boy-Who-Lived. Without much preamble, Draco took either side of the wand and pressed down, his eyes closed when the 'snap' reached his ears.

The wand had not responded to him correctly since Harry had used it, and Draco had long since gotten another wand in Germany, one that was not as dark and which was good for potion-making. But Draco could feel the tinge of loss in his core, having snapped his very first wand. He tossed the broken shards into the trunk and closed it with a slam. With a few more locking charms, and in another dramatic act, he banished the trunk from his home. He did not care what happened to it or who got their hands on it. The items did not belong to Draco Malfoy any longer.

A baby's cry rang through the house. Draco's back straightened instantly, and he was up on his feet in the next second. Without further thought, he hurried out into the corridor, the door locking itself behind him, and towards Scorpius' nursery.

"What happened?" Draco panted as he entered the nursery, having picked up speed when Scorpius' cry went on for longer than he had thought it would. Astoria was already in the nursery, bouncing the newborn and singing softly to him. Although they had only been parents for a month, they both moved in a precise way that only well-seasoned parents did. The blond man moved forward, hand coming to rest on Scorpius' back and as the crying paused, so did Draco and Astoria. Acting on a curious thought, Astoria handed over the newborn, ignoring Draco's protests, and both watched as the baby quietened down in Draco's arms.

"I think he just wanted his daddy." Astoria smiled, her hand caressing Draco's back, looking over his arm at the sniffling baby. Draco's lips split into a smile, shock clear on his face. How could something so innocent and pure want anything from a corrupt person like Draco? The blond man reached up with one hand to stroke Scorpius' cheek, his breath catching his throat when the baby smiled at the touch. Astoria gasped at his side, tears filling her eyes. His first smile!

"Yeah," Draco said, breathless, smiling at the baby in awe, "maybe he did."


End file.
